Tag Archives: backyardzoo

Day 20,760

A light snow dusted Roanoke this morning, the sort that hushes the whole valley and tucks the rooftops under a clean white quilt. I stepped outside and the air felt like something out of a storybook, crisp enough to nip the nose, soft enough to make the city seem kind. Fresh powder lined the evergreens like thick frosting, and the brick houses peeked through like shy guests arriving early for winter.

And maybe ’twas the season brought company.

While crunching along the stone path, I caught sight of a familiar little fellow trudging along with a red of child restraints slung over his back. Not quite human, not quite anything you’d see outside of folklore, but with a big lolling tongue, a blue grin, and the sort of enthusiasm only a holiday mischief-maker can manage. A Krampusling? A traveling sprite on official December business? Hard to say. But he looked pleased enough with himself, jangling a tiny keg like he was checking it twice, ready for whatever Krampusnacht has in store.

Tonight marks that old alpine tradition, after all. The eve when the kind children get warm light and sweets, and the naughty ones… well, best to mind your manners. Around here, the only real danger is slipping on the sidewalk or forgetting gloves, but the spirit of the thing still stirs. Mischief in the air. Bells that sound like laughter. A hint of old-world magic drifting with the snowflakes.

Standing there with the cold seeping gently into my boots, the whole scene felt like Roanoke was hosting a visitor from some illustrated winter tale. Snow settling over the trees, the sky a soft gray dome, and our blue friend stomping happily along the stones like he belonged here all along.

If this is what the season is bringing in, I’m all for it.



#roanokeva #SnowDay #Krampusnacht #backyardzoo #DecemberMagic #krampus

Day 20,677

A little chipmunk guest darted across the concrete slab of the back porch today, light as a windblown leaf. Quick pauses, then a flash of striped fur and whisker. He stopped to look at me just long enough to feel like a tiny greeting, then vanished into the rail shadow and back again. The slab must have seemed like a whole highway to him, every step a dash between doorways and hidden corners.


I like to think he’s mapping the place in his own way, drawing a small private atlas with his paws. For me, just a blink of company, but I’ll carry the visit for longer.


Current mood: settled
Current music: Chet Atkins – Mr. Sandman